


Beautiful Welsh Vowels

by timeheist



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 20:32:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeheist/pseuds/timeheist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a Time Agent Jack first meets Ianto Jones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Welsh Vowels

‘Captain Jack Harkness. Ex Time Agent. Current Conman. Wanted on twenty two planets and illegal on seven. Damn good in bed.’ If Jack had his way, or contacts in whoever it was that wrote wanted posters, that’s what he’d want his to say. Where was the danger, the thrill, the sex appeal in ‘wanted for crimes listed below, apply for reward’? Exactly! There wasn’t any. And frankly that just wasn’t good enough for him! He hadn’t quit the Time Agency and gone on the run as a conman just to become a common criminal like all the others; people hardly even recognized him outside the circle of people he’d pissed off anymore, and he had once been the Face of Boe, a poster boy. Even those executioners (yes, plural) who woken up to find Jack had left them in bed with four empty bottles of hypervodka no longer seemed to hold a grudge, he’d been to the happy threesome’s wedding only last week. And that planet where they had three legs and he’d impersonated a cleric of the church of the handkerchief thing and made off with several thousand dollars worth of collection plate donations had clearly forgotten about him too. And Jack, not that Jack was really his name, planned to change that and fast. Earth seemed a reasonably good place to start and early Earth too.

Jack may have been human himself, but in the Fifty First Century to be human meant a lot more than it did where Jack was headed, the Twenty First. Jack had been born and raised on the Earth colony of the Boeshane Peninsula as well, which looked more like the set of a bad science fiction movie than Earth. Oh, Jack hadn’t been away from home long enough to be homesick, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t love the sandy wilderness and its igloo-like houses. After all, it had been home where he’d had the operation that upped his body’s natural pheromones, and had inadvertently left him pregnant, and it was home where he’d been scouted by the Time Agency, which until they’d stolen two years of his memory had been brilliant. Which got him thinking why he was chasing chaos when he had John’s bed to return to at any moment…? Jack shook his head; Earth Twenty First century had none of that, and thus he would attract the attention of The Shadow Proclamation if he did what he did best and made a spectacle. And when he did, his infamy would be right back on track. It was the perfect plan! Being Captain Jack Harkness, he might even make his spectacle stark naked and brandishing a futuristic gizmo of some sort that might be mistaken for a sex toy but would more likely be an egg whipper. Add a little excitement into the mix, if it were possible to make his entrance more exciting.

The problem lay in that Jack hadn’t exactly aimed, at least not in the conventional sense which was known to give you the kind of results that you wanted and avoid blazing forest fires. The conman had set himself on a crash course not for a particular Earth city but for the entire planet (although he was pretty sure he had the right century at least) and was now busy hiding his ship somewhere in the area of Cardiff Bay which wasn’t quite as exciting as he had hoped. Still, causing a ruckus would be easier here. Although he’d decided against nudity, he’d dressed himself up in his RAF coat and cap and was still certain to be an anomaly, unless he’d managed to choose the one city where people were prone to dressing up in period clothing to go to bars on a Friday night, in which case he wouldn’t cause a spectacle but would be in Heaven. Find a local, kiss them passionately, then vacate to the nearest bar with said local either on his hip or in his pants; it was the kind of plan that Jack liked. Very much. But unfortunatey for his plan it was still daylight and in a square full of young children and their parents even Jack had limits. Maybe a drink or four, then, while he waited for the sun to set.

Of course, a drink or eight later and Jack was out on the street sporting a far more trussed look and missing his coat. The shirt and suspenders look suited him, he’d decided, anyway – he’d have to dress like this more often, especially since it would speed up the stripping process later on one of his ideal nights. The moon was out, the stars lit up the Bay like Christmas tree lights, and if Jack had been of more of a romantic persuasion it would’ve been the perfect night to propose. Although as far as wooing went Jack, of all people, was a Jack of all trades. All he really needed was the power of communication and one or more recipients, which brought him to place that, according to the sign, was called the Roald Dahl Plass. A wide square ideal for attracting attention, and host to a solitary rather attractive looking Welshman wearing an incredibly bemused expression and looking right at him. There you go; he’d caused some confusion already. Jack smirked to himself, running one hand through his hair and resting it on his thigh. Time to pounce!

Jack came up behind the Welshman and broke the personal space barrier almost immediately, ghosting his hands over the other man’s pelvis and murmuring in his ear. It didn’t matter to Jack that the man might be straight; in the Fifty First century everyone was bisexual, and Jack considered himself pansexual in that he’d never felt the need to limit himself to his own species and only two genders. If Jack could do it, he didn’t see why any random stranger couldn’t be attracted to him too, even if just for one night. “Captain Jack Harkness and I’m going to show you the night of your life!” The Welshman spun around and Jack laughed, moving his hands from the man’s pelvis to his inner thighs. “Jumpy fella, aren’t ya?”

“Jack! Where’ve you been?” There was a relaxed smile and then a hiss of comfortable pleasure from the Welshman that came right up to his light blue eyes, and this time it was Jack’s turn to act confused. Although he had to say, the man now had Jack’s undivided attention; this little catch wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight. He also, and this was definitely both a plus and an achievement, looked good in a suit. Sneaking a kiss before speaking, pressing his mouth ferociously against the Welshman’s, Jack noted that he also tasted of very strong and very good coffee. A man of taste!

“What are you, Time Agent? Time Lord? Alien?”

“Like The Doctor?”

“Who?” Jack raked his brain, but The Doctor rang no bells at all. Was it a medical term, a case of mistaken identity between him and the Welshman? Or just some Twenty First century cultural icon that Jack had never heard of? Jack shook his head; the Welshman frowned. What kind of game was he playing, wondered Jack, tipping his head to one side and automatically appraising his choice prey. He opened his mouth to ask the one question her hardly ever asked. “What’s your name?”

“Ianto. Ianto Jones. You know that, Jack.” The man looked reproachful, hurt even, and Jack couldn’t help but wonder if he’d crossed his own timeline again like that time he and John had gotten caught in that Time Loop (and Jack was adamant that he was not the wife), or perhaps Ianto was a man from those two years stolen from him. But unfortunately for Ianto – or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it – Jack liked him already, and had never been a stickler for the rule book. He ran the name over his tongue, admittedly seduced by the man’s accent, and pulled Ianto closer.

“So do you want to get to know me better, Ianto Jones?” He winked, adding a tempting growl to his own American lilt and felt Ianto half melt and half tense underneath Jack’s fingertips. He pressed harder, just the right amount of pressure, and Ianto whimpered.

“Jack, you’re my boss. And – and more than that, after office hours.” Ianto blushed. “Although you do have a fetish for office dates, if I remember. Hiding from Tosh, the day you accidentally locked me in the office block… Jack, what’s your game?” He lent in closer and froze as Jack slipped one wet finger, fresh from his mouth, under Ianto’s starched white collar and loosened the suit in what he felt was an improvement. “Jack!”

Jack wouldn’t be dissuaded. If Ianto claimed to know him then he could very easily work with that. It made things simpler, didn’t it; Ianto would be in his pants even quicker if he thought that they were familiar. The man was right, too – he really did like office dates, although his last date in an office had been blue-skinned and furry. And had had a nice long tail that went places he had only… Jack shook his head, squeezing Ianto’s ass instead. “I’m only kidding, Yan,” Yan, did he call him Yan if he did know him? Sounded like something he would do to get into bed… “I’ve been busy… Never too busy for you! What do you say we go for a… Drink!”

In a flash, Ianto was pressed between the wall and his body facing against the sort of monument, and Jack was stopped in his tracks. There was a strange feeling snaking down his spine that seemed to be mingled with guilt and… Was it affection? It wasn’t something that Jack was accustomed to, but he felt as though the soft-toned Welshman, whose body moulded into his so well, was someone he could talk to, and really get to know in another life. Jack just wasn’t that man yet – maybe he never would be. But rather than driving him crazy with desire than having quick sex, some good drinks, and then longer sex, Jack found himself abandoning his plans and twirling Ianto into a gentle kiss, then a more forceful kiss, memorizing his body with his hands. This Ianto Jones was someone he was suddenly terrified to lose, as though by some kind of premonition, and he was terrified that one of them would die and leave the other to survive. Ianto didn’t resist, hidden in the nook as they were, and when they both paused for breath he managed to pant out a suggestion.

“I found a – new use for – a stopwatch!”

Jack’s face broken into a wide grin, and he found himself mentally adding ‘associated with Ianto Jones’ to his Wanted poster script with a wide smirk. “I like the way you think!” He offered his arm to Ianto, “How about you tell me over that drink?”


End file.
